cherries
by little toy soldiers
Summary: stephen&rory. "Kissing Rory, he imagined, would probably be like a gust of wind   so strong that it would almost pull you away."


Rory Deveaux is sleeping in Stephen's bed.

Not that there is any forms of romantic ties behind that statement. At all. In fact it is as far from romantic as possible.

Now that she lives a few hours away from London(for the time being)and has obtained a special power that the Shades kind of sorda needed, there were weekends she would go to London and stay at his (and Callum's) place. Callum certainly wasn't going to offer up his bed for her so Stephen knew he had the gentlemanly responsibility of offering her his bed while he sleeps on the couch.

On a sunny Sunday morning, she emerged from his bedroom wearing black sweat pants and a loose t-shirt. Her dark her was pulled in a sloppy knot on the top of her head. Stephen was instantly aware that he was not too discreetly staring.

"Morning," she mumbled, oblivious to the way he blushed when her eyes met his.

"Morning," he responded briskly, putting a plate of questionable looking eggs in front of her (he never was a good cook). She dug into the eggs anyway.

A groggy Callum rubbed at his eyes as he walked into the kitchen. "Are those

Eggs I smell?" He sat down across from Rory eagerly gripping on the fork and knife that Stephen had placed on the table moments before.

It was a Sunday morning they all experienced countless times since Rory moved. Soon enough Boo would arrive living up the atmosphere and whisk Rory away for an hour or two before they all went ghost spotting.

After finishing his eggs (within two minutes flat, it was almost a record)

Callum went back to his room showing no interest in socializing that morning.

Rory quietly ate her eggs with a look like she wasn't completely there yet,

stilled dazed with sleep. Stephen didn't dare break her from her zone-he knew it would earn him a murderous glare (he would know, he woke her at 6 a.m. once...it wasn't a pretty experience.)

When Callum came back three minutes later he was wearing a fresh pair of jeans and button up shirt. Not his normal attire.

"Hot date?" Rory finally asked as she took in his appearance. He glared at her. Life started to seep back into Rory's eyes. "I'm right aren't I? But wait," her eyes narrowed. "Who has a date at 8 in the morning?"

Before Callum had a chance to respond Boo opened the door. "Morning!" Stephen couldn't help but notice that her outfit was a little bit more dressy than normal as well.

Rory's eyes widened when she put two and two together. "Oh."

Boo and Callum both laughed sheepishly. "Well we," Boo began when Callum said, "We were just-" More nervous laughter.

"You were just about to go on a date," Stephen finally finished for them.

"Well yeah," they said in unison.

Rory got up and opened the door, gesturing for them to leave. "So let's make this as less awkward as possible and use that as your cue to leave. Go on now." They both seemed relieved to leave as quickly as possible. As Rory closed the door behind them Stephen distinctly heard Boo say, "Now that didn't go as bad as you thought it would."

And then there was two.

Rory sighed and shook her head. "It was about time. I take it we'll be ghost spotting on our own today?"

Stephen ran his hand over the back of his neck. "It appears so."

He watched Rory open the refrigerator and pull out a bottle of whiskey (Callum's stash). "Gotta do something with this down time, right?"

He paused. "Rory..."

"Oh come on, Stephen." Rory got a mischievous smile on her face. "When was the last time you did something that wasn't work?" He considered it and realized he couldn't remember. "When was the last time you had fun?"

And so Stephen reached out, grabbed the bottle, and took a long swig in response. He tried to ignore the bitter taste, he never liked the taste of whiskey.

The amount of time it took for the both of them to get insanely drunk was 30 minutes. It didn't take much to do so-Stephen was a light-weight and Rory was...well she was American.

They were in Stephen's room. Rory was lying on the ground staring at the ceiling while Stephen sat propped against the side of his bed, watching her.

She giggled and pointed up at the ceiling. "I think the dots form a dragon or no! A lion. Or-" she sighed. "Damn I don't even know." She sat up suddenly. "I think I'm really drunk. Are you drunk?"

Stephen looked at the ground, which appeared to be moving. "No, I'm completely sober."

Rory looked at him and smiled a closed-lip smile. "Are you?" She moved closer to him.

"Yes."

She moved even closer. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he said, slightly out of breath.

Their faces were close now-nose touching nose close, in fact. A strand of black hair fell into Rory's eyes causing her to giggle. Stephen felt his hand reach up and push it behind her ear subconsciously.

Up close he noticed small details about her. Freckles aligned the bridge of her nose. Her lips were a really faint pink.

Lips. Pink. He suddenly began wondering what it would be like to kiss her. It would be something, he knew that. Rory wasn't like a small candle-lit flame, she was like a fast burning fire. Kissing Rory, he imagined, would probably be like a gust of wind so strong that it would almost pull you away.

Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.

He wouldn't do it though-even if he was drunk he still had the knowledge that it could bring an awkward vibe afterwards.

Just as Stephen was about to pull away, Rory seemed to make the decision for the both of them by pressing her lips to his. He didn't dare pull away after that.

Cherries, he thought faintly as the kiss deepened, Rory tastes like cherries.

"Jesus, Boo, you just HAD to ask that woman if she was a ghost, didn't you?"

Stephen and Rory broke apart.

"God will you let that go? Hey, where are Stephen and Rory?"

Stephen straightened his shirt and tried to muster as much of a sober face as he could. When his eyes met Rory's they both gave each other looks saying, "This never happened."

It most certainly did not happen indeed.


End file.
